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“The Spencer has twenty-three floors.”
    “Will it fall over when the volcanoes erupt? ” I asked.
    “If the volcanoes erupt, everything will fall over,” he answered. “But I wouldn’t worry about it. The active volcanoes are—”
    “—farther south,” I finished for him. “How much farther?”
    “Far enough,” he said.
    “Do you know why I’m here?” I asked, as the elevator doors slid open.
    “Bill filled me in,” he said, steering me into the corridor. “We don’t have to discuss it now, though. You need some sleep.”
    “I do, ” I agreed fervently.
    With Cameron’s help, my luggage and I made it to my suite. He deposited my suitcase on a luggage rack in the sitting room, then slipped something into my shoulder bag.
    “I’ve written my room number on the back of my card,” he said. “I’m three doors down. Give me a call after you’ve caught up with yourself.”
    “Okey-dokey,” I said.
    Cameron left and I crawled into bed, still clutching my carry-on bag.
    I passed the next two hours in blissful oblivion, then woke with a start, wondering where Bill was, why I’d gone to bed fully dressed, and if Cameron Mackenzie had been a figment of my imagination. After I’d unraveled those mysteries, I sat up in bed, reached for the telephone, and called Bill. I didn’t know what time it was in England and I didn’t care. I needed to hear my husband’s voice.
    “Did I wake you?” I asked when he answered.
    “No,” he replied, “but it wouldn’t matter if you had. For future reference, Lori, London is twelve hours behind Auckland. How was the trip?”
    “Don’t ask,” I said, stifling a yawn. “How are Ruth and Louise? ”
    “A little better,” Bill replied. “Nell said they perked up when she told them what you were doing. They requested porridge for breakfast, in addition to their usual tea and toast.”
    “Wonderful,” I said.
    “Cameron called to let me know you’d arrived,” Bill went on. “He said you seemed pretty jet-lagged.”
    “I think I drooled in his car,” I confessed guiltily.
    “He won’t mind,” Bill assured me. “I’ve asked him to look after you while you’re there, so if you need anything, ask him. Have you mapped out a plan for the day?”
    “After I hand the Pyms’ letter to Aubrey Pym, Junior, I intend to come back to the hotel and sleep until it’s time to fly home,” I said.
    “You’d better get going, then,” he advised. “I’ll talk to you later.”
    “Kiss the boys for me,” I said. “And tell William I miss him.”
    “I will,” Bill promised, and rang off.
    A wave of homesickness threatened to engulf me as I hung up the phone. I kept it at bay by opening my carry-on bag and peering down at a small, powder-pink flannel face. Reginald was used to traveling with me. He was my own personal cure for homesickness.
    “You have no idea how good it is to see you, Reg,” I said.
    I stroked his hand-sewn whiskers fondly and placed him on my bedside table, then withdrew the blue journal from the carry-on and opened it.
    “Dimity?” I said. “Weah-heah.”
    I leaned back against my pillows as the familiar lines of royal-blue ink scrolled gracefully across the page.
    I beg your pardon?
    “We’re here,” I said, reverting to my native tongue. “We’re in Auckland. It’s bigger than Upper Deeping.”
    I suspected that it might be. How do you feel, my dear?
    “Not too bad,” I said. “My brain’s a little disjointed, but I think I can take a shower without drowning.”
    Did you read up on your destination during your flights?
    “I didn’t bring a guidebook with me, Dimity. I won’t be here long enough to need one.” I looked at Reginald and sighed wistfully. “I’d planned to get my hair cut this week, not circle the globe.”
    Do try to cheer up, Lori. I, for one, am delighted to be here. I’ve always wanted to visit New Zealand. I wish we could stay long enough to explore the North Island as well as the South Island,